Caitlin's Conspiracies

by Mariella Starr

  “You’re in pain!” Caitlin gasped one foot out of the shower and ready to run for help.

  He grabbed her hand and pulled her back to him. “It was worth every second of it. Get back in here, you can scrub my back.”

  She did as he asked, and he scrubbed hers too, along with other parts that sent her into passionate spasms again and again. They did eventually get to the business of showering, both grateful for the hospital’s endless supply of hot water.

  Later Chase stood shirtless and shaving as Caitlin came back into the bathroom drying her hair vigorously with a towel.

  “I’ve never watched a man shave before,” she commented.

  “Does it turn you on?” he teased.

  “Does it hurt to raise your arms?” she asked seriously nodding to where she’d already re-taped his ribs.

  “Yeah, but I’ve had cracked and broken ribs before,” Chase said gruffly. “Cracked is better, they’ll heal faster.” He looked in the mirror back at her image and turned around. “Is your hair shorter?”

  “Yeah, some of it was singed so Shelley trimmed it,” Caitlin explained.

  “You must have got out barely ahead of the explosion,” Chase said worried.

  “I wasn’t in the house. I was in the barn,” Caitlin corrected. “I was looking outside when I saw the barn was on fire. I ran to get the horses out. By the time I got Smokey and Red out, the house was on fire.”

  “Smokey and Red are alive?”

  “Alive and well and in your fathers barn,” Caitlin reported happily.

  Chase was frowning as his mind pieced together the events of that night. Those parts of his memory before he’d taken a blow to the head had been blank. “You threw something through the window. That’s when I realized you weren’t in the house but outside. That’s when I jumped.”

  “Only about a millisecond before something detonated inside the house. The blast and whatever hit you in the head knocked you out. I was trying to drag you across the lawn when the second bomb went off. That’s the one that knocked me out.”

  “A third one took out the barn and tossed up a fireball that was seen at Larson’s place. Jesus, you saved my life,” Chase said cupping her face in his hand. “You saved my horses. I’m supposed to be protecting you, but you saved us.”

  “I was outside so I wasn’t in any real danger,” Caitlin said.

  “Thank you,” Chase said but when he went to kiss her, she backed off.

  “Not with that stuff on your face!” she exclaimed indicating the shaving cream.

  Chase turned back to the mirror and finished his shaving. As he worked his way into a snap-up western shirt, he reflected on the memories of that night. When he reentered the hospital room, Caitlin was packing the contents of the bags into the duffle bag. There was a knock at the door and at her shout Blake walked in and shut it behind him.

  “The Feds are getting restless out there.”

  “Are we set?” Chase demanded.

  Blake nodded. “As soon as you say your goodbyes to your family and we get you wheeled out of this joint. The Texas Division isn’t real happy with your decisions but they can’t force protection on you without a court order.” He shrugged. “Like or not they have to respect that we’re two of their own and they’ve backed off. Hank had a lot to do with that too.”

  Caitlin picked up the duffle and carried it over to the door. She saw Chase whisper something to Blake and his friend grinned shook his head and then nodded.

  “Hey, guys no secrets!”

  Both of the men walked over to her, Chase put his hand on the door to keep it closed. While she watched Chase, Blake stepped up behind her, swung his hand back, and landed a hard swat to her backside.

  Caitlin whirled around in fury to face Blake only to be yanked back to face Chase. “That was because I couldn’t deliver it personally, with my ribs. You went into a burning barn! You risked your life!”

  “I couldn’t let Smokey and Red die!” Caitlin snarled. “You would have done the same thing! Damn it, you did do the same thing, you were looking for me in a burning house instead of getting out yourself!”

  Chase looked across her shoulder and nodded and Caitlin was whacked again on her bottom.

  “Stop that!” Caitlin yipped at Blake.

  “There are two of us, Caitlin,” Chase warned her seriously. “We both take our jobs very seriously. From this point on you’re under our protection. We take keeping you alive very seriously. That means no going off and doing something dangerous on your own. Are we clear on that point?”

  Caitlin looked from one very large man to the next. Both of them were stubborn men with macho attitudes and they were going to be her companions until this mess was over. She could fight one, but trying to fight the two of them together would be an impossible task.

  “You’re very clear,” she said giving her smarting backside a rub.

  Chapter 13

  Blake loaded Chase into the passenger front seat of the rented SUV while Caitlin tossed the duffle bag into the backseat and climbed in.

  “What arrangements have you made?” Chase demanded.

  Blake took the wheel. “We’re flying out to Concrete, Oregon. We’ve purchased business class tickets, and we’re leaving a trail a mile wide.”

  “Not really. We don’t want to be stupid or obvious about it,” Caitlin disagreed from the backseat. “If Stevens knows you and I are together, he also knows that Blake will be around. Blake’s rental car will be easy enough to trace since he rented in his name when he got here. When we found out you were going to be released today, one airline ticket was purchased in his name and an hour later, we cancelled it. That was just trace and clue that something was happening, so whoever is monitoring us will pick it up. Then three tickets were purchased - one for U.S. Marshal, Blake Ford, one for Chase Bennett, and one for Edwina C. Potter. That’s why we’re heading to Concrete. All this was registered with the airlines under the guise of ‘protective custody’. Hank Stubbins arranged for that. We needed to make the paperwork look good, but we left enough of a trail that someone, even someone that wasn’t that smart, will be able to follow it. I’m 99.7 percent sure that Clifford Stevens is behind this. He’s got a couple of private detectives listed on his accountant’s books. They both have iffy records. Both of them are shady but so far, they haven’t been charged with anything bad enough that their licenses were pulled. They’re pretty good at their job, that’s their specialty - finding people. They’re dumb enough or ego driven enough that they have made some serious mistakes before. As soon as they connect the Edwina C. Potter with me, they’ll be able to trace the property in Concrete. The house records, taxes, the utilities - everything is in that name. That leads them away from your family, Chase, and leads them into my territory.”

  “Do I want to know how you got into Stevens’ accountant’s books?” Chase asked.

  “No, you don’t,” Caitlin said firmly.

  “I’m not hearing this,” Blake said seriously.

  Caitlin ignored him. “The two private detectives, Stanley Cramer and Felix Dunbar have been on Stevens’ payroll for a while, on a sporadic basis. Four weeks ago, the accountant started cutting checks to them again. Stevens also made a large withdrawal from a bank in the Cayman Islands. That’s a fairly new account of his, but the idiot has it listed on his computer links as a favorite. Anyway, he made a withdrawal to the tune of two hundred thousand dollars.”

  “That sounds like a payoff to a professional,” Blake said. “Any idea where it went?”

  “Yeah, but I can’t prove it yet. Cramer and Dunbar have made some substantial deposits lately but they don’t add up to that much. I think Stevens is being smart there and he’s probably filtering it through someone else’s accounts. I’ve got his account numbers and his passcodes but I don’t want to mess around too much in the banking systems—they’re getting better and better at tracing, especially the offshore ones. They’re hiding a lot of money for a lot of powerful people. If I have
time, I can build a false trail, but I’m going to need another computer - one that I can dispose of after this is over.

  There have been some untraceable calls coming in to his personal cell. So far, they’ve been untraceable.”

  “Expendables,” Chase said.

  Caitlin looked at him with a frown.

  “Pay as you go,” he explained. “Buy a phone, drop ten or twenty bucks on it, call who you need to contact and toss it in a dumpster or a lake. It can’t be traced.”

  “I knew that. It’s the same theory and reason that I want another computer. The thing is, I can tap into Stevens’ phone, record and find out what he’s up to,” Caitlin offered. “Stevens has a top-of-the-line model, so I might even be able to tap into his regular cell and have it activate and record any signals within a minimal distance surrounding him, so if he’s using disposables we’d know what he’s planning.”

  “I have officially turned off my hearing aid,” Blake mumbled.

  “Can you do all that?” Chase asked, “Without it being traced back to you?”

  “Please,” Caitlin said with a snort. “Phones are mini-computers. If it’s a computer, I can figure out the programming. It’s called reverse engineering. That’s how industrial espionage works. We have to know who and what we’re dealing with here. Professional arsonists aren’t listed in the yellow pages. Stevens is still being backed by some pretty powerful and wealthy men.”

  “Stevens was charged and has a trial date, but so far it’s been delayed twice. He’s out on personal recognizance, which means someone high up pulled some strings. Stevens’ defense attorneys are still claiming all the evidence is circumstantial and has no validation. They’re also saying that they will sue the newspapers and the networks for defamation of character and libel. They’re spinning his downfall as if he’s the victim,” Blake said.

  “How’s that working?” Chase demanded.

  Blake shrugged. “Some buy it or are pretending to buy it, most don’t.”

  “I handed him to the District Attorney’s on a silver platter and that isn’t good enough for them?” Caitlin said with a near feral look in her eyes. “What more do they want?”

  “Apparently, it takes them longer to sift through accounts than it does you,” Blake said. “Plus, they have to play the political game, and I’ve heard there’s been some high level demands to drop the case. So far, the current D.A. has been standing his ground and he’s assured me that Stevens will not be running for office unless he does it from a jail cell. The IRS is involved now too, and if any agency can ferret out information it’s them.”

  Caitlin made a disparaging remark under her breath about government agencies and idiot drones, but neither man fully heard it. Both of them gave her a hard look.

  Blake pulled his rental car into the agency and went inside to deal with the paperwork.

  Caitlin and Blake sat on a bench out the building.

  “Is your head hurting?” Caitlin asked.

  “Some. I’m looking forward to a long sleep on the plane,” Chase admitted. “Caitlin, if all our stuff blew up in the house, where did you get your IDs? Hank replaced mine easily enough because the agency has all the information. The agency wasn’t responsible for issuing yours.”

  “My ID’s weren’t in my stuff,” Caitlin admitted. “They were stashed under a rock by a fence post down by your main gate.”

  “Why?” Chase asked.

  “Habit,” she admitted. “I’ve had to go on the run several times without notice. If I kept my identifications with my clothing and personal items, I would have to go back for them. If I kept them hidden and separate, I had a better chance of retrieving them and making a fast getaway. Clothes are easy to replace, ID’s aren’t.”

  Chase pulled her as close as he could without hurting his ribs and kissed her. “Your last five years have been hell. You didn’t even trust me enough not to create a bolt hole.”

  “I did. I do,” Caitlin denied. “It’s habit, and in this case it worked to my benefit. To be honest, I didn’t do it until my Spidy senses kept going off. If I hadn’t done it, Hank Stubbins would have had to create a new identity for me, or I would have had to travel under my previous aliases. The identity of Edwina Caitlin Potter is established. It’s good, and no one will suspect anything. Blake is going to carry my Colleen MacFarland identification through security in his inside coat pocket. I need that to return home. As a U.S. Marshal providing escort, the airlines know we’re coming and we’ll be boarding first. He’s allowed to carry a weapon aboard with the correct documentation and he has that. I’m prattling… you already know all this stuff, but it was new information for me. I guess I’m nervous. It’s a twelve hour flight to Seattle and there’s a three hour layover and another two hours to Bellingham International which is as close as we can get Concrete.”

  Chase sat up suddenly. “Jesus, are you going to be able to handle it?”

  She looked him straight in the eye. “I don’t have a choice. I have some Valium, if I need it. It’s legal, sort of. Your Mom called your sister, Rose, and she called the prescription into the pharmacy at the hospital in Marie’s name. Marie picked it up and passed it on to me. I’ll handle it, Chase. I’ve already caused enough damage and put your family in danger. I won’t put your family in any more.”

  “This is not your fault,” Chase said gently. “I agree we need to draw the attention away from my family, but you are not at fault. If this is Stevens or his paid cohorts, we’re going to take him down, Cait.”

  “It’s Stevens,” Blake said walking up on them. “On that, Edwina and I both agree. We need to get over to the concourse and get checked in.”

  Armed with books and magazines, prescriptions for painkillers for Chase and Valium for Edwina Potter, they settled into business class for a long flight. Caitlin really wanted to try to get through the trip without medication. She made it through the takeoff and two hours of flight before she started exhibiting signs of panic. Chase insisted that she take the pill and less than twenty minutes later she was sound asleep.

  “It’s better for her this way,” Chase said to Blake. “That stuff really knocks her out.” They were sitting at the end section of business class, separated from the other passengers by several rows of empty seats. “She said you went back to my place. Was there anything left?”

  Blake looked at his friend with sympathy. “Not much. What wasn’t destroyed by the bombs was damaged by the flying debris. The explosion took out your truck too.” He handed Chase his phone. “I took pictures.”

  Chase thumbed through the photos. He wasn’t surprised, but he still had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. “That was almost us,” he said handing the phone back.

  “Luck was on your side. Next time we’ll be more prepared. From what the Kid tells me, she bought the place in Oregon because it was built by a paranoid as hell, dot.com guru who got out before the crash. He was convinced that someone who lost everything was going to get even with him for making mega millions and bailing before everything crashed. Supposedly, the place is crawling with security cameras, with daylight and night vision, lasers, and alarms. It’s so hooked up it has a control room with monitors and a panic room. I’m kind of looking forward to seeing it. That’s one smart woman you got there.”

  “I plan on keeping her, so we’ve got to take this guy down. I don’t like using her as bait, but I don’t see how we draw him out any other way,” Chase admitted.

  “You didn’t have a choice. She was the one who came up with this plan, and Hank is on board with it. I know she doesn’t do things the way we do, but in the end we’ll take him down by the book,” Blake said. “If she’s right - and she has been so far - his people will have us pinpointed in less than a week. All we have to wait them out.”

  * * * * *

  “Call,” Chase said, holding a Jack high straight. The pot was now seventy dollars although they never actually collected any winnings from each other.

  Blake laid his cards
down with a smirk. “Read 'em and weep, full house, kings and ladies.”

  Chase tossed all the cards down and swung around in his chair. “I’m going down to check on Cait.”

  “She gets pissy when you’re constantly checking up on her when she’s on monitor duty,” Blake said with a grunt. “Mostly that’s because she’s always working on her computer at the same time and she does scary stuff with that thing. We’re all getting antsy. It’s been seven days and nothing.”

  “That’s what got me worried,” Chase admitted. “She’s about to pull something.”

  “What?” Blake grunted.

  “If I knew what, I wouldn’t be worried,” Chase exclaimed. “I can read her and she’s been acting squirrelly for the last couple of days.”

  “Okay, if you think she’s planning on splitting again, one of us should be sticking her all time times.”

  “I’m not planning on splitting,” Caitlin said coming into the room and sliding into a kitchen chair and grabbing a handful of potato chips. “I am planning on stirring things up. It’s time to put the final torch to a budding politician’s career plan.”

  “How so?” Blake demanded to know.

  Caitlin smiled. “You’ll see. Watch the social media outlets. It should make the evening news by tomorrow. The major networks will be jumping all over it.”

  Chase actually growled. “Caitlin, this isn’t a game. If you’ve done something, we need to know it.”